


The Opportunity of a Lifetime

by ambiguously



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Broken Families, Canonical Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-06 15:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambiguously/pseuds/ambiguously
Summary: Everyone tells Rush that he is being given a great opportunity. It doesn't always feel that way.





	The Opportunity of a Lifetime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raininshadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raininshadows/gifts).



They moved to Scipio when Rush was seven years old.

"Your father's been given an amazing opportunity," his mother told him as they packed their things.

"You'll benefit from the opportunities available on Scipio," his father said on the day they sold the house.

'Opportunity' was a word they often used, a word equally favored by the Muuns. His father had been offered a business opportunity to work as an aide for some Muun banker who'd seen great potential in the human. His mother would be granted the opportunity to continue her research with the resources available at the Baron's lush estate. Rush would be given the rare opportunity of an in-depth Muun education, free of charge. Opportunity was everywhere for the clever mind to identify and seize.

Rush was clever. His parents had met in university as mathematics students, and he'd inherited their gifts with numbers. The first thing he learned about Muuns, as he sat to lessons with the other children, was that they held numbers sacred, and viewed wealth as the material form of the pure numbers which made up the universe. He was human, not evolved like the Muuns to live and breathe math, but his brain could juggle sums and more complex calculations as readily as the immature minds around him.

"You are as clever as any Muun," said the children's father, nodding it as a compliment to Rush's father. "Be sure to avail yourself of this opportunity, Clovis." There was that word, again, and the reminder that he was not among humans. Muuns favored the use of the family name, only differentiating when necessary. He still thought of himself as Rush, but to the other children and his tutors, he was Clovis, son of Clovis, and he had many opportunities before him.

* * *

"Don't think too highly of yourself," his mother warned him one night over their dinner in their own rooms away from the others, after he casually gave her the same orders his father was given.

"You are not among your peers," said his father, eyes crinkling in anger at the echo of his master's tone in his own son's voice, yet otherwise outwardly calm lest he say something here that would carry out of these private walls.

"Do all humans look like you?" asked his classmates, who would have been his playmates were Muun children permitted to play.

"I don't know. I don't remember."

They laughed, and forgot the question, and set to a game of odds and evens, each racing to one hundred without using the same number twice.

* * *

He was Clovis, and he was their friend, and when the shuttle crashed, they all grieved together, wrapping long arms around one another in a circle. Their beloved mother and his parents were gone in the flicker of a one in ten million chance, and not all the stars above them could enumerate their griefs.

"Stay," said his friends' father, his father's master, the last parent they all had. He placed sad fingers on Clovis's sadder head, and human jokes about 'such a long face' all grew and died on Clovis's numb tongue. He nodded, steeling himself for service as his father had given, a shadow at this man's elbow, learning to obey. "You will be my son."

Muuns didn't hug, but humans did, and Clovis threw his arms around his new father's shoulders, and he cried.

"It is a great opportunity," Clovis said, shuddering through the words, which were the correct words.

After the ten days of mourning were passed, the children returned to their lessons. Clovis sat in his same seat and learned from his same tutor, and he kept his name out of respect for his parents. But these were his brothers and sisters now, and his father came more often to their lessons, taking comfort in the sight of all his children as his heart grieved the loss of his wife and his closest friend. After lessons, Clovis dined with his new family, uncomfortably aware that the seat he used had so recently been vacated by their mother. His eyes took in the symmetry of the family, and he wondered then and often later if the reason he'd been adopted was to keep the pattern.

* * *

His new room was on a different floor than his old one had been. More than once, he accidentally went back to the servants' area before he remembered. Twice he'd found himself in their old suite of rooms, which had been cleaned out of their possessions and stood empty of everything that had made it home.

"I am sorry," said his father, stepping into the room behind him. He placed a comforting hand on Clovis's shoulder. "The servants said you'd come back here. Do you wish to be alone?"

The air was stale, and his other parents were never coming back. "No."

"My mother used to say that a grief alone was a grief multiplied, while a grief shared was a grief divided. Let us return to your room. You can tell me a story about your home world. I will tell you a story of the last time my wife and I visited Minillinst. We can divide our griefs together."

Clovis nodded, and let Father lead him out of this dark place.

* * *

"You have been given a great opportunity," said his tutor, as Clovis stared out the window instead of paying attention to his lesson.

"So I have been told." He didn't mind the private lessons. Clovis was well ahead of the other students. Their father was not singling him out by supporting his more advanced studies, merely supporting him, but his brothers and sisters were jealous of the attention, making fun of his family tattoos when they once had been merely curious.

"Your father is highly respected. His patronage will open many doors for you. But you must apply yourself." The tutor leaned closer. He was young, just out of university himself and eager to make connections. He expected Clovis and his father to open doors for him, too. "He will not say this to you, but you are the brightest of his children. You will go far, young Clovis."

He gazed out the window for one more long moment. There weren't many birds on this world, and he always kept an eye out. His mother had loved birds back on their home world, feeding them scraps in the garden, watching them through macrobinoculars, making notes of the patterns of their flocks: this one a fractal, that a spiral in the Golden Ratio. Now his sight fastened on a dark shape far away, circling, looking for its next opportunity. As he watched, the lonely hawk pulled in its wings to dive out of sight, intent on capturing a meal.

He had been given many opportunities. Muuns had different ideas of what it meant to love their offspring, but for that, his new father loved him and was proud of him. It was up to Clovis to tuck in his wings and dive.

"Yes," he said, returning his attention to the tutor. He schooled his expression into a copy of the calm mien of a studious Muun youth, ready for his day, easing his mouth into the glad smile every banker learned. "What's today's lesson?"

* * *

Clovis stood before the Assembly. He had excelled in every lesson, passed every exam, and he was ready to be elevated to adulthood within the Banking Clan. This was an auspicious day, only marred by the intense scrutiny he felt from the other Muuns, most notably his own siblings. Muun tradition said the eldest child received the greatest honor and inherited the largest percentage of the inheritance. Clovis was the oldest of the children, but he was not the Baron's son. The day would come when their father passed into the Golden Vault to join his wife and dear friends. His will already named young Clovis as his heir. There would be strife.

But not today.

Today his father stepped forward, and he gave the traditional speech regarding the wealth that a child brought to the family. Clovis knew the words, had attended these ceremonies for others. Despite this, his heart swelled as his father gestured to him, speaking of the pride more valued than gold, and the legacy of a family as its numbers spread.

"We count you among us, Clovis," he said, and nodded. Clovis nodded deeply in return.

"I only wish to multiply the honor of our family." The traditional words spoken, the audience broke into their own conversations as they headed towards the refreshments. Deals would be struck here. Business would continue.

Clovis had already stated his intention to go into public service. When the election came around in another year, and with his father's support, he would certainly be elected to the Senate to fill the seat of the retiring Senator. Until then, there were committees to join, and programs here on Scipio to facilitate. He was not a Muun but he would be the best Muun anyone had ever met, until even his brothers and sisters could find no fault in him.

All of this reflected in Father's eyes. The smile he beamed upon Clovis was filled with a rather unMuunlike emotion.

In a quiet voice, only for Clovis to hear, he said, "You honor me merely by being my son."

"You have given me the greatest opportunity of my life. Thank you."

Father shook his head. "I appreciate that you have adopted Muun traditions. Now allow me to participate in a human tradition." He cleared his throat. "You are my son and I love you."

His own throat was suddenly thick, caught with the memory of birds, and the sound of his parents laughing over a shared joke at dinner. He knew they would be proud of him today. He felt they would understand as he clasped the hand of the good man who had taken him into his family and raised him as his own, no matter what others thought or said.

"I love you, too, Father."


End file.
